I have eaten insects big enough to master
With compass and drawings of rights.
I have been huts to abide in like glorious
Monuments or caves of the enlightened kind.
I have been inside the hated world
For a momentous shaking design,
Enough to shatter the glass of a mansion.
Vagabonds will reunite after the rights are drawn
In this little tome of magic spells, informing me
In a hurry, almost too fast and too slow.
The beams overhead are burnt away by gloom,
Painting the names of my forefathers in some way.
Little has been connived behind the screen of holes,
For my lifetime is numbered beyond recall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem